Reasons to be Missed
by SkyeSoul
Summary: Major Character Death! One-shot Sort-of songfic but not rly , Leave Out All The Rest by Linkin Park. Wilson has left House, seemingly for good, and House's only reason to live has disappeared. How House deals with his misery one last time.


**This is.. sort of a songfic. But not really. It's House listening to 'Leave out all the Rest' by Linkin Park. It really sort of reminded me of what could be with House.**

**Slash if you squint.**

**You have to have heard the song.**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

House was sitting in his house listening to the radio. He was listening to some of that new age-pop crap that teenagers listen to, because one does odd things on boring days. Boring days when their best friend as left them for good, and there seems to be nothing else for it.

Another song turned on, and he suddenly became sick of the music. It was synth and soft drumming, like every other song on this radio station.

House got up to turn the music off, but the radio was in the kitchen and he was sitting at the piano as habit dictated, even though he wasn't playing it.

As he got laboriously up to turn the radio off, the music started.

_'I dreamed I was missing / You were so scared..'_

House threw his free hand up. More of the angst crap of teenagers, always pitying themselves. What the hell does pity do? House thought.

_'But no one would listen / 'Cause no one else cared…' _

House stopped.

_'After my dreaming / I woke with this fear, / What am I leaving, / When I am done here?'_

House came to himself, and went to turn the music off.

_'So if you're asking me I want you to know…'_

Almost there, he thought. This music was bothering him more than he cared to admit.

_'When my time comes / Forget the wrong that I've done / Help me leave behind some / Reasons to be missed.'_

House, for reasons as of yet unknown to him, slowed down, and walked painstakingly slow to the radio, almost for a reason to listen.

_'And don't resent me / And when you're feeling empty / Keep me in your memory.'_

Yeah, House thought. That would have been real nice if Wilson did that, but he just left me and his whole life over his girlfriend. Amber was a big deal and an exceptionally nice person for Wilson, he wasn't downplaying that. But wasn't Wilson just being weak and uncaring, abandoning him and Cuddy and the friends he's sure to have at the hospital?

_'Leave out all the rest / Leave out all the rest.'_

House came to a stop stooped over the radio, leg twanging from the odd positioning, with his thumb on the off button.

I've stayed, House thought morosely. The only reasons he didn't down bottles and bottles of his stashed vicodin or even his morphine and bourbon and vodka was because he knew Wilson still cared. He wasn't certain whether Cuddy cared any more beyond a purely coworker relationship anymore, but he highly doubted it. Even she left, after a good long while, right behind Stacy. He just couldn't shake Wilson off.

Until now.

_'Don't be afraid / I've taken my beating / I've shared what I've made.'_

_'_I have, Wilson. I've taken my beating from my actions, and I tried to do something nice for you, I really did. But luck has it that the test went too far. Testing yours and Amber's loyalty wasn't the thing to do. It never was, and I see that now. I shouldn't have tested you. I'm.. s… no. Sorry doesn't mean anything.' House's dad had taught him that. Sorry didn't mean a thing.

'_I'm strong on the surface / Not all the way through / I've never been perfect / But neither have you.' _

That's right. House was only going on because it's only been a month. Maybe he'll come back. But it's been a month, if he's going to come back at all he'd have said something by now. House's only real and tangible reason to stay has left him in the dust, and when House did a nice thing.

He tried to be nice, for once in his life, he really did. And Wilson left, because House had killed his girlfriend. Well, he had every right to leave, because House really did screw everything up with anyone. Wilson no exception.

_'So if you're asking me / I want you to know / When my time comes / Forget the wrong that I've done / Help me leave behind some / Reasons to be missed.' _

Wilson couldn't help him anymore, the only time House called out Wilson couldn't help him. House was willing, for a second there, to say something that had gotten him trouble in all his life on the slim chance it would help.

_'And don't resent me / And when you're feeling empty / Keep me in your memory / Leave out all the rest / Leave out all the rest.'_

_'_I hope I'm in his memory,' House thought. 'I had better be after this.'

House threw a glance to the 2 full bottles of bourbon behind his couch, and made his decision. House couldn't do this anymore, his mind was so screwed up he couldn't save lives anymore anyways.

He reached up into the tin can labeled 'tea' and took out the small, cream-colored morphine pills inside. For good measure, he also grabbed a couple bottles of vicodin.

_'Forgetting / All the hurt inside / You've learned to hide so well / Pretending / Someone else can come and save me from myself.'_

Not temporarily forgetting anymore. Leaving it behind. And, say he was headed to hell, at least there's no insane, crushed hope there. You know it's the end and that nobody loves you, which house knows is better than the crazy hope he had that _anyone_ cared.

House held tight to the can and bottled and limped over to his couch, and set them down.

_'I can't be who you are.'_

'I know you can't be, Jimmy. I can't either.'

House walked over to his computer, and looked up the lyrics. Leave Out All The Rest, by Linkin Park.

_'When my time comes / Forget the wrong that I've done / Help me leave behind some / Reasons to be missed.'_

_'_Not like Wilson could do that anymore.'

As soon as the song was done downloading, he looped it on repeat, and went to turn off the radio, which was playing a meaningless song.

_'And don't resent me / And when you're feeling empty / Keep me in your memory / Leave out all the rest…'_

House wrote 'For Jimmy' And a short message on a ripped piece of notebook paper and left it on the keyboard.

_ 'Leave out all the rest…..'_

House swallowed the bourbon, the pills, the bourbon. He watched as his world faded away, and he left on a pink cloud, listening to end of the song.

_'Forgetting / All the hurt inside / You've learned to hide so well / Pretending / Someone else can come and save me from myself.'_

That's what you were doing, Jimmy. You forgot, a few years back, how to even look for it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Wilson was standing at the door of House's apartment. He had only just come to about the realization that really, House was trying his damnedest to be nice. He just wasn't very good at it but maybe, maybe he was trying to change.

Wilson knocked.

And knocked.

It made sense, he thought. He's probably depressed, and we've always had to break down his door when he was.

So he used his key he still had and unlocked the door. He saw House splayed across the couch, seemingly asleep. But one eye was peeked open, like in a stillframe.

"House. I'm sorry, I-"

But then Wilson listened, and Wilson saw.

He saw the bourbon bottle in House's hand and the pill bottles and special morphine can all empty, and he saw another bourbon bottle on the floor.

"Oh, no." Wilson whispered, so quietly he almost didn't hear himself.

'It'll be alright, he's come back from worse stuff, he always makes it, he always always always does.' But Wilson knew it was because before he didn't care, if he didn't especially want to live. Now, he did want to die.

The music came to his ears: _'Forgetting / All the hurt inside / __**I**__'ve learned to hide so well / Pretending / Someone else can come and save me from myself_.'

He floated over to the computer, and saw the note House had left on it, tears running down his face silently, like to make noise was to confirm the reality of the situation.

_"For Jimmy,_

_All I had was you." _

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Angsty… :)**


End file.
